


the exalt's new clothes

by astrogeny



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Buzzkill, F/F, Humor, Janties, Lucina's horrendous fashion sense, Not to be taken seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrogeny/pseuds/astrogeny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where the problem begins is the material–a faded shade of light blue that looks like it’s been washed with too much bleach a few too many times, paired with thick, rough fabric that cannot at all be comfortable when worn right up against particularly sensitive skin.  There’s even a little brass button at the top where a ribbon might normally be, winking cheekily in the low light.  Severa wants to scream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the exalt's new clothes

**Author's Note:**

> this is straight-up the worst thing i ahve ever written, and it’s all @cloudyuri ‘s fault. it’s lucisev w/lucina wearing janties. that’s it, that’s what this is. take this maybe 50% seriously. does denim even exist in fe-verse?? i don;t even know tbh

“There we are,” Lucina murmurs, hot and throaty as Severa drops to her knees.  Severa almost hates that she thrills with it every time, the way Lucina can make her yield without fail.  Then again, almost (almost) hating it is part of the charm, putting up a fight that is not entirely play to goad Lucina into ruling her with a firmer hand.  Severa drags her gaze up to meet Lucina’s, knowing how irascible she must look.

“I’m not a dog,” she complains, knowing that her tone borders on outright whining.  Her witticisms sound so much sharper in her mind before they roll off her dull tongue.  "What, do I get a treat for being a good girl?  Or should I just roll over and play dead instead?“

"It depends on if you think this to be rewarding,” responds Lucina, her hand drifting over to cradle the back of Severa’s head.  This is her velvet glove, when she knows (they both know) Severa wants the iron fist beneath.  "I almost feel as though punishing you is a reward in and of itself, sometimes.“  Severa exhales hard, too hard, her petulant poker face crumbling as a low whine of pure want slips from between her parted lips.  Lucina’s gentle touch turns sharp all at once, her fingers lacing through Severa’s hair at the roots and pulling like hot metal against the skin of her scalp.  "Service me,” Lucina orders quietly.

Severa tries not to comply immediately, tries to make it seem like she’s considering the ramifications of disobeying rather than already fantasizing about Lucina fucking her face until she can barely breathe.  She tugs at the waistband of Lucina’s leggings a bit, mouthing along the line of skin now bared to the too-warm air between their bodies.  Lucina presses her closer, yet she hides her eagerness far better than Severa ever could–the only indicator that perhaps she wants this as badly as Severa does is the dark glassiness of her eyes that makes her Brand burn like a fever pitch in contrast.  Severa is always the first to break, though, perhaps because she wants to be broken, snapped over Lucina’s knee like something helpless and wanting.  Fervent in her haste, Severa yanks Lucina’s leggings all the way down–

–and feels a tiny piece of her soul die as she comes face to face with the most atrocious smallclothes she’s ever seen in her life.

“What,” Severa begins, voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and arousal that is now going out the door, unlikely to return, “What in the gods’ names is that.”  It isn’t even a question.

“My new undergarments?”  Lucina’s regal air dissipates almost visibly, her expression now open with earnest confusion at Severa’s disapproval.  "I’d purchased them just the other day from an Anna, and I’d thought you might like to see them…“

Severa groans in utter dismay–of course, an Anna would enable Lucina’s gods-awful fashion sense, so horrendous that it loops back around from comical to just plain bad.  She wants to put an axe through the next gaudy merchant’s tent she sees, even if her fashionable vengeance can’t be exacted upon the specific Anna who swindled Lucina into paying real money for this abomination.  

The underwear is cut normally enough, and it could actually be flattering, what with the way it hugs Lucina’s slender hips and leaves little to the imagination.  Where the problem begins is the material–a faded shade of light blue that looks like it’s been washed with too much bleach a few too many times, paired with thick, rough fabric that cannot at all be comfortable when worn right up against particularly sensitive skin.  There’s even a little brass button at the top where a ribbon might normally be, winking cheekily in the low light.  Severa wants to scream.

"The only place I’d like to see this hideous affront to good taste is off you and in a garbage fire!  Good gawds, Lucina, I don’t even want to know how much money you blew on this thing.”

“I bought several pairs, actually,” Lucina admits, somewhat abashedly.  "The merchant gave me a bulk discount, and I was told the color flattered my complexion.  Tell me, is this really so much worse than the nightshirt with Exalt Emmeryn’s visage stitched into it?  I seem to recall you disapproving of that one as well.“

"Um, maybe because that’s, like, your aunt?  I don’t need Chrom’s holy sister watching me have sex with her niece!”  Severa exclaims, unable to believe that Lucina sees no problem in wearing clothing like that to bed–or to anywhere, for that matter.  It probably also counts as some form of sacrilege, both to Naga and to common sense.  "So, yeah, this is at least as awful as the Emmeryn nightie.  Possibly even more awful.“

Lucina almost seems a little crestfallen, rather than offended by Severa’s scathing criticism of her sorely lacking fashion sense.  Severa, still on her knees, would appreciate it if the ground opened up and swallowed her whole right about now.

"If I were to remove the offending item of clothing, could we perhaps proceed?” asks Lucina tentatively.

“Yeah, maybe if you let me burn it first so that I can get back into the mood.  Gawds, every time I think I’ve finally stopped you from unleashing the ultimate in bad fashion on me, you pull another turkey out of the hat.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever worn a hat so big as to contain a turkey.”  Severa scrutinizes Lucina’s face for any sign at all that she’s joking, and catches an upwards quirk at the corner of her lips.

“Now you’re just messing with me,” she accuses, eyes narrowing.

“I’d thought my choice of underwear was quite fetching.  I might even suggest you wear a matching pair next time.”  Lucina brushes a curled finger beneath Severa’s chin, smiling with a radiance that is patently unfair given the absurd situation.  "I might even make it an order.“

"You are absolutely not turning your horrid, ugly underwear into a pickup line,” Severa grouses tersely.  Of course, the mere mention of Lucina ordering her to do anything sets a spark of arousal pooling low in her stomach.  Taking another look at Lucina’s undergarments douses that spark with the force of a small hurricane.  "Now take that ridiculous thing off so that I can go to bed without getting nightmares.“

"Very well,” Lucina cedes with a good-natured sigh.  The mood is quite obviously a bust at this point, though Lucina does take the abominable smallclothes off in exchange for some nice, normal ones.  "Would you rather I wear nothing at all down there?“ she asks as she slides into bed next to Severa.  The heated tension between them now gone, the room is faintly chilly–that is absolutely the only reason Severa immediately turns to snuggle into Lucina’s chest.

"No, but you’re on shopping probation for like, at least the next five years, missy.  You buy so much as a sock, you run it by me first, you hear?”

“I am in your care, as always.”  How Lucina can humor her so sagely is always somewhat beyond Severa.

“Gods know you need it,” Severa grumbles, wrapping her arms tight around Lucina’s waist.  She’s feeling vaguely saintly for putting up with a lover who could rally a dying future against everything that would break them, and then turn around and come to bed wearing denim underwear, of all things.


End file.
